


The Christmas Game

by Forgotten_Alice12



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Dirty!Tony, Fluff, Games, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Tickling, affectionate nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Alice12/pseuds/Forgotten_Alice12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers had a hectic holiday... fighting off bad guys. Steve wants to celebrate after-Christmas with his boyfriend, so Natasha and Clint devise a game for them to play. Naturally, things get a bit competitive. ;)</p>
<p>(Rated T for implied sexual content and innuendo, but it's kind of in limbo between T and G...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Game

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in January for sour--strawberries on Tumblr (I shall leave you a link at the end, please check her blog out if you like this kind of stuff) and I've just been really lazy about putting it up here. Enjoy!!

            “Tony.”

            The genius grumbled incoherently.

“Love, you’ve gotta get up and sleep on a flat surface, or you’ll hurt your back again,” Steve murmured, brushing a few strands of oily hair out of his boyfriend’s face.

A tiny dent formed between his dark eyebrows as he shifted on his lab stool. Steve Rogers knew that tiny dent well. In fact, he had a lot of affection for that dent, and the face that went with it. That half-scruffy, charming face that hid such a magnificent brain, with all it’s wild and wonderful ideas.

            Of course, those ideas were partially to blame for his current state. Filthy tank top that had seen many better days, paired with his favourite pair of ripped, irreparably stained jeans. As per usual, a ratty cloth hung out of the back left pocket, one that was nearly black with grease and God-knows-what-else. Oil and some other kind of metal lubricant made inky smudges across his sleeping face, namely his cheeks and brow, and the skin from elbows to fingertips was almost black with endless combinations of dirt and grit and grime. He had passed out, once again, at a lab table in the midst of a coffee-fueled invention process, somewhere between the ‘Rambling to JARVIS’ stage and the ‘Damnable Drafting’ stage, if the mess of papers and still-glowing holoscreens were any indication. His fingers were still clamped around a pencil, poised as if he could awaken at any moment and continue on with his creation.

            It shouldn’t be attractive. Most people would find it distasteful, maybe some would even think it repulsive. And it was… well, to be blunt, it kinda turned Steve on. Not in the intense, rock-you-to-the-core, hang-a-tie-on-the-door-and-kick-everyone-out-of-that-floor-for-good-measure kind of way. No, it went deeper than that. It was sweeter and gentler than flash-fire lust, so much slower and more permanent. He knew it was cheesy, and he knew Tony would hate the “senile, old-timey sentiment,” but Steve knew that he loved this man, even if he was covered in a thick layer of shop dirt. _Especially_ because he was covered in a thick layer of shop dirt.

            He ran his fingers through his brunet’s ratty hair. Even his dirty, unkempt locks sent a rush of fondness (and a startling ping of possession) coursing through the super soldier.

            “C’mon, up and at ‘em. I know you can hear me, Anthony.” Playfully, he wiggled a finger against Tony’s neck.

            Tony squirmed, wrinkling his nose to fend off a smile. “Go ‘way,” he whined, burying his head in his arms and rounding his shoulders to defend himself. It was too early for this, dammit! …Well, actually, the genius’ internal clock told him that it was probably early or mid afternoon, but inside the Tony-verse, it was early. So suck it, Planet Earth, and shove your _“real life time”_ into a friggin’ black hole!

            “Darling, you’ve been down here ever since we got back from all that fighting around Christmas and New Year’s,” Steve admonished gently, rubbing Tony’s shoulders _just so_. The results were instantaneous. The brunet melted with a quavering sigh as his muscles unknotted and smoothed back into place, followed by a wave of pure bliss.

            Tony was absolutely convinced that Steve had magic hands. Every time he complained about a sore muscle or knot, the blond would be sure to work it over for him with those deft fingers and firm palms. And sweet baby Jesus, it was the most wonderful thing in the entire world. He had massaging down to a friggin’ _art_. Every movement was made with the perfect amount of pressure, and he always found the epicenter of the soreness and reduced it to nothing more than a faint buzz of almost-bruised pleasure. It was like he could _sense_ it or something.

            The shoulder thing he was doing right now was his famous teaser. He would do this every once in a while, especially if Tony was being particularly stubborn or even downright unbearable. Steve would work out one really stiff spot before dropping something (usually unpleasant) on him. Mostly, it was used to coax the genius to do paperwork, but it had been used to convince him to make apologies, eat real food, and—on one memorable occasion—give Natasha back her decorative hair combs. (She had punched him hard in the arm and thanked the Captain. Needless to say, Tony gave her a wide berth until the bruise started to yellow and fade a week or so later.)

            Tony’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head as his wonderful super soldier pressed his thumbs into a particularly impressive knot and worked it out. “How much paperwork did I forget?” He groaned, a wave of bliss radiating into his body and making it tingly.

            “None,” Steve answered, “but we didn’t get to celebrate Christmas yet, and I’d like to spend some time with you today to make up for it.”

            “Anything you want, as long as you don’t stop,” the brunet growled, arching his back as Steve’s clever fingers kneaded their way down his spine. He meant it, too. If his Captain told him to hop off a cliff, he’d do it, so long as he got his backrub first.

            Of course, that’s exactly when the mesmerizing phalanges ceased their delightful work. Tony let out a desperate whine. To the super soldier’s credit, he had his genius’ full attention now, which was something of a feat in itself. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and nuzzled that spot just behind his ear. Tony shuddered. Every ounce of his focus was devoted to the man behind him, who was leaning just a little bit closer to whisper in his ear.

            “Go take a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and then come to the living room. I’ve wanted to give you your gift for a long, _long_ time.”

            He unwound his strong arms from his little genius, who leaped up with anticipation gleaming in his eyes as he scurried off to clean up. _This,_ he thought gleefully, _is my favourite kind of bribe._

* * * * *

            Tony was squeaky clean and presentable in under fifteen minutes. He was dressed in his most comfortable (non-shredded) jeans and (unstained) black, v-neck t-shirt, which had been dubbed the Shirt of Pure Sex Appeal (by Clint, who else?) a few weeks back. Steve knew about the nickname. Hopefully, he’d take the not-so-subtle hint. Probably, he would need a hint… or a well-placed nudge.

            As he rounded the corner, Tony froze, wondering if he had his Captain all wrong. Mistletoe hung from strategic points on the ceiling, and there were tiles of colorful (as well as colorless) paper on the floor. The actual living room had been rearranged to make room for an enormous blanket nest, mostly comprised of Tony and Steve’s bed sheets and comforters, a few throw blankets, a massive quilt, and all the pillows the blond could hunt up.  The brunet blinked in astonishment. It looked… beyond words. But mostly fun, and a little like Steve was leaning toward snuggles.

            The super soldier in question popped out of the rather impressive nest, beaming from ear to ear as he hopped to his feet and sauntered toward his boyfriend. “Hey, there you are!”

            “Hello, gorgeous,” Tony answered before gesturing to the room with a cocked eyebrow. “I see you’ve redecorated.”

            “You like it?” Steve inquired in an innocuous tone as he crossed to stand with Tony. A predatory light gleamed in his sharp blue eyes that made the genius swallow reflexively.

            “It’s very… elaborate.” He gestured to the mistletoe and the multihued and white paper tiles with a puzzled look. “Care to explain, though?”

            “I think you’ll like it.”

            “Do tell, my riveting beauty.”

            A light blush stained the soldier’s fair cheeks, but the fierce glow never left his eyes. “It’s a game. Each tile is a space and we each get a turn. Step under a tile with mistletoe, you owe me one kiss, and the same goes for me. If you can cross the tiled section of the floor without acquiring five kisses, you win. But, if you step on a colored tile, you have to do what’s written on the tile, whether it’s add three kisses to your total or take an extra turn. Anything else, we save until the end.”

            “Not very fair if you already know what’s on the tiles,” Tony pointed out, shooting his boyfriend a playfully reproachful look.

            Steve’s smile widened, which only served to increase the voracious look. “I haven’t seen them at all. Natasha and Clint set them up before they got everyone out to see some new movie.”

            “So we’re alone?”  
            “Completely.”

            “… playing a game that the _assassins_ set up?”  
            “Would it kill you to have a little faith in them for once in your life?”

            “Potentially, yes. They’re called ‘assassins’ for a reason, darling.”

            Steve shot him a long-suffering glare. It shouldn’t be hot, but it sent shivers down Tony’s spine. (Yeah, okay, so he had a boyfriend who was even attractive when he was annoyed. Sue him, it wasn’t _that_ bad to find mild vexation unbelievably appealing.)

            “Are we playing or not?” The blond challenged in a low, commanding tone.

            Tony grinned, taking the first tile with a raised finger. “One kiss. Bring it on, Capsicle.”

            Without taking his intense stare off of his infuriating (and handsome) genius, Steve took one step and held up a finger. “One kiss. Do your worst.”

* * * * *

            Both men learned very quickly that the entire setup of the game was to encourage use of the colored tiles. Once Tony discovered that the colored cards were free of mistletoe, he had jumped on one as quickly as he could and found some very _interesting_ directions. He had blinked dumbly for a moment before grinning with wicked delight at the card. Naturally, Steve asked and, upon being denied an answer, snatched one up himself. He read it and shot a smug look at Tony. After that, it had been one move after another of gleefully captured tiles and grudgingly acquired kiss points. By the time they had crossed the floor, both of them had armfuls of vibrant tiles and were one kiss shy of losing.

            “So… it’s a tie?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

            Steve frowned. “Natasha didn’t say anything about—”

            “If I may interrupt, Captain. Sir, Miss Romanov has sent a text,” JARVIS announced. The genius could almost hear an amused note in his AI’s voice. “Shall I read it aloud?”

            “Go for it.”

            “Message is as follows: When you guys tie, use the cards to determine a winner. Let us know if you need more than another hour.”

            Steve laughed. “Damn. She’s brilliant, and no one will convince me otherwise.”

            “Such language, Captain!”

            “Oh, hush,” he growled, giving Tony a playful shove, “Let’s finish the game.”

            The brunet fluttered his eyelashes demurely. “So eager to lose, my love?”

            With a slow smile, Steve cupped his boyfriend’s face with both palms. “Frankly, my dear?” He drawled in a spot-on imitation of Rhett Butler (the ~~sexy~~ bastard) as he bent to whisper, “I just want to watch you _squirm_.” His hands slid down, fingers caressing his genius’ neck with the lightest pressure.

            Tony squeaked (he’ll deny it later) and jerked away. Steve was positively radiating happiness when he turned his first card around.

            _TICKLE NECK: 30 SECONDS_

            The genius swallowed reflexively at the mention of his neck, but there was no nervousness in his expression. “I’m not all that ticklish there.”

            “The cards are law,” Steve answered seriously, a gleam in his eye, “Sit.”

            “J, set a timer for thirty seconds,” Tony requested, a snarky smile on his face, “Things are about to get serious.”

* * * * *

            The first two or three cards had been easy enough, but they quickly found out that Natasha was more than just a pretty assassin. No, the woman was a ruthless tactician, and her encouragement of foul play had both of the boys struggling to take any sort of advantage. Steve—aside from the first one—had acquired all of the belly tickle cards, which lasted anywhere from thirty seconds to two minutes. Tony’s palms were imprinted with fingernail marks after every single one, but he easily made up for it with his own cards. As soon as JARVIS called time, Tony was quick to exact his revenge with assaults to the super soldiers hips. Steve endured it, shifting and squidging his toes to keep from losing his cool.

            Needless to say that, by the time they were down to their final cards, both men were a bit breathless. They stared each other down, clutching the colorful pages to their chests as they caught their breath.

            Tony sighed in his this-sucks sort of way. “Is this really all the farther we’re gonna get?”

            “Sir, there is another message from Miss Romanov.”

            “Shoot.”

            “Message is as follows: Last cards should be revealed to each other AT THE SAME TIME. Good luck, boys.” Steve swore he heard a teasing note in JARVIS’ voice as the message ended, but Tony either didn’t hear it or ignored it altogether.

            The two of them locked eyes. Tense anticipation practically crackled in the air as a handful of seconds ticked by.

            “On three?”

            The genius gave one jerky nod. “J, could you give us one last countdown?”

            “As you wish,” the AI practically sighed, and this time Tony rolled his eyes. “Three…”

            Two sets of hands clamped down on the flimsy papers.

            “…two…”

            Another ripple of electric excitement snapped between them.

            “…one. Reveal.”

            The cards flapped in protest as they were whipped around. Steve blushed, but grinned as Tony whooped and leaped at his super soldier.

            “Fucking Natasha,” the genius growled happily as he groped at America’s golden boy’s perfect butt and basically made love to the juncture of his neck and shoulder with his mouth, “I owe her.”

            Steve threw his head back and laughed. “That goes for both of us,” he replied, lightly digging his fingers into Tony’s sides. He yelped, and Steve couldn’t help himself. With extraordinary gusto, he covered his perfect, infuriating, beautiful boyfriend’s face with kisses and walked the two of them toward the sofa. Tony let his hands slip upward and tease Steve’s stupidly flawless cut lines with his deft fingers.

            The blond squirmed, breaking away from his genius’ face and snatching at his hands. “Tohony.”

            “Hey, I’m just following instructions,” he replied innocently, pressing a gentle kiss to the end of Steve’s nose.

            “It says ‘use your libido,’ not ‘tickle your boyfriend,” he admonished.

            “Mine said ‘use your libido?’” Tony snickered. “I’m surprised they took that road.”

            “What do you mean by that?”

            “They were a _lot_ less delicate with yours.”

            A positively wicked grin stretched across the super soldier’s face. “Then allow me to be even less delicate.”

            JARVIS automatically sent Natasha a text as the boys hit the cushions:

_For the sake of the team’s collective sanity, I would suggest remaining out for another hour or so. They just displayed their final cards, and my programming indicates that it might be a while. –J_

* * *

 

Thank you for reading!! Drop me a comment if you found anything flagrantly awful, or if you just wanna say hi, that's cool, too. ^^

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